Wordsmoker

Everything is my fault. Even when other men want to fuck me. It happens about once every couple of years. A guy I know, a friend, whispers in my ear how beautiful I am and we should sleep together. From there I spiral into a black hole of self-flagellation. I wear baggy clothes and try to go full days without talking to anybody. I try not to open my mouth for hours, hoping my lips will seal together. Read the rest of this entry →